Lost
by Glitterberryy
Summary: After getting beaten badly enough to take 2 weeks off work, Danny proves that you don't need water to feel like you're drowning.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: This is my first fic, so please go easy. Read and review, because reviews will make me happy :)  
After a bad day at work, I just really needed to beat on someone...sorry Danny!  
I don't own anything other than the plot. **_

***H50***

**Chapter 1**

**Danny**

Danny shouldn't have gone, that much he was sure of. He didn't want to be sat on Steve's lanai, drinking warm beer and making small talk. He ran his hand over his face, the bruises barely tender any more, and then up through his hair, fingers tracing over the new scar hidden under blonde locks.

"I feel like I'm losing control." He muttered to himself, but Steve had heard him.

"The boredom is probably just sending you stir crazy." Steve suggested, handing him his second bottle. "You should come back to work. It's already been two weeks, and I'm sure I can find a desk job or some paperwork for you to do."

"I don't think the answer to my problems is paperwork, Steven." Danny sighed, shaking his head. Just for once, he wished that Steve would take his feelings seriously.

"You know what your problem is, Danno? You're too sensitive." Steve chuckled as he sat back into the deck chair, but Danny didn't join in. Maybe Steve was right, maybe Danny was too soft. It wasn't the first time his partner had made a comment about it, and he suspected it wasn't the last.

_'I think I might know why your wife left you...you're very sensitive.' _Steve's former words echoed through Danny's head as he took a long drag from the beer bottle.

"Yeah, maybe." He finally sighed, as he looked down at the bottle in his hand and wished it was something stronger.

Steve looked over at his friend and softened when he saw the deeply depressed expression haunting his face.

"Hey, c'mon buddy, cheer up."

"I think I'm going to head home." Danny concluded, as he stood up and placed the beer bottle on the metal table next to the empty one.

"Danny..." Steve started, getting up from his chair, but was waved off by his partner.

"I'll see you later." As he stepped down from the decked area, and headed for his car.

"You'll be at work tomorrow?" Steve called after him, and Danny knew he was lying when he shouted back.

"Yeah." He pulled open the driver side door of his beloved Camaro, slid in behind the wheel. "Need to get away." He mumbled, as he turned the ignition on, put the car into drive, and pulled away from McGarrett's house.

He felt like he was drowning on the inside. Something felt heavy in his chest, and he was tired of trying to fight the constant battle to keep in control and not give in to the dark cloud looming around him. He tried to focus on the positives in his life, and felt worse when he could only pull one thing from his brain; Grace. And even she had been too busy to spend some time with him lately. This weekend, for example, Danny had planned swimming with dolphins, shopping at the mall, face masks, cheesy chick flicks that he hated but would watch with her anyway. But when he'd called her to check the time he was to pick her up, she'd popped his merry balloon of excitement.

"I'm really sorry, Danno. Chelsea is having a sleep over, and I said I would go." Grace had apologised on the phone, and it didn't matter that she sounded genuinely apologetic, Danny felt replaced by a silly school girl.

"No worries, Monkey. Have a good time, okay?" He'd faked a cheery tone, didn't want her to hear how let down he felt.

"I will." She'd sounded full of promise, and then Danny had heard someone calling her in the background. "Chelsea is waiting, I have to go now."

"Okay, Gracie. Danno loves..." And then she'd hung up before he could say "you."

He spotted a neon 'OPEN' sign in a small off license as he drove along the quiet residential roads of Hawaii, opting to avoid the busy freeway.

_Perfect._

The store was dingy, the alcohol old stock and over priced. Danny pulled out $76 dollars and slapped it down on the counter in front of the old man – probably the store owner – and pointed to the liquor on the top shelf.

"However many that buys." He ordered. The old man, of Hawaiian descent, looked Danny up and down, studied his appearance; his eyes were rimmed with red, he had a good start on a beard and his hair dishevelled.

"Maybe just the one, hey?" He tried, pulling one bottle of dusty _Jack_ from the top shelf and putting it in front of Danny. But Danny didn't have time to be judged by this old fool, so pulled his badge from his belt and shoved it in his leathery face.

"I'm going to need all three." But the old man looked at the badge and back at Danny, unwavering. "Look, give me the damned bottles, or I'll call my buddies at ATF and get your ass hauled to jail for selling those dodgy smokes." He nodded towards the packets of cigarettes on sale for cheap behind the counter.

"Hey man, I don't want no trouble." The clerk said, holding his hands up in surrender before turning and grabbing the other two bottles of whiskey. He put them in a brown paper bag, then added a half size from another shelf. "On the house, that one." He'd insisted, taking the $76 as full payment for the other three.

Danny didn't say thank you as he left the store, a little eager to get home and start drowning the pain before it drowned him.

He wasn't far from his home when he'd started to feel bad about lying to Steve. He'd known that Steve would suggest work as a fix; that was the answer to all of Steve's problems, after all. This was the same man that had managed to turn his own personal vendetta into a job, had forced Danny into being his partner to help him get revenge.

_Hired gun._ The voice in Danny's head snorted, and he sighed. Of course that was all he was to Steve; a convenience. Danny could bet there was a stack of paperwork on Steve's desk, untouched, awaiting his return. He pushed back any guilty feelings and allowed the anger to boil away at his supposed 'friend.'

He pulled onto his driveway, grabbed the paper bag off of the passenger seat, and headed for his dark apartment. He didn't bother to turn the lights on when he'd closed the door behind him; he didn't want to see the emptiness before him, or the spa kit he'd bought Grace as a surprise, sat on the table with a big pink bow he'd stuck on it. He didn't need to see just how alone he really was.

He collapsed onto the sofa, kicked off his trusty loafers and socks, and put his feet up on the black glass table. Something he wouldn't let Grace do, but that doesn't matter, because, as he didn't want to remind himself, Grace wasn't here to see him do it. He pulled out one of the whiskey bottles, blew the dust off the top and unscrewed the stiff cap. The first gulp was the best. It burned as it slid down his throat easily, the physical burn a welcome distraction from the emotional one, and he craved more.

His ribs ached and his head had started to pound, so he reached in his pants pocket and took out the pot of painkillers the Dr had prescribed. He tipped two into his hand, decided he wanted to feel numb and tipped another two out, before popping them into his mouth and swallowing them with some more fiery liquid. He sat in silence, listening to the clock tick away seconds of his life. _Tick tock._ He can't help but wonder what Grace was doing with Chelsea that beat watching _The Notebook_ whilst wearing silly face masks and painting her Danno's toenails. He looked down at his feet, crossed at the ankles, resting on the table top, and smiled at the left over, chipped, red nail paint he could just about see in the darkness. And then he wondered if she was painting Chelsea's nails, and he took another gulp of _Jack_. _Tick tock._

_Everyone leaves._ The voice taunted in Danny's head, as he ran his hand over his face again. _Rachel, Gaby, Grace..._Another two mouthfuls of the whiskey, and he'd started to feel the warm buzz. He tried to remember the last time he'd actually ate, but couldn't, shrugged, had another mouthful.

He cursed himself for being so dispensable. _Tick tock._

He'd been too soft, too willing, to move onto this god-forsaken island, just to be close to Grace, and to be honest, Rachel. Because he'd never gotten over her, and probably never would. They'd tried again, but then she'd left him, again, leaving his heart shattered for a second time.

_Mug. _The voice wont leave him alone, but Danny agreed. He'd been used for far too long, had had enough. _Tick tock._

He pulled out his ringing cell phone from the breast pocket of his shirt. It was 11:56pm, and McGarrett was calling him, probably to double check that his pencil pusher would definitely be in tomorrow. Danny pressed the hang up button, then smiled sadly at the wallpaper Grace had insisted he had; a picture of him and Grace being goofs. A message popped up a second later from Steve and Danny opened it.

**Just making sure you're okay.**

**Chin up, Danno.**

**See you tomorrow.**

**Steve.**

Angered, Danny threw the phone across the room, watched it hit the far wall and break apart. He shrugged, drank more from the bottle.

_Who needs a cell, anyway?_

He sat there for another hour or so, drinking more whiskey, getting more drunk, replaying the best and worst moments of his life in his head;

marrying Rachel; watching Rachel walk out of the door. Grace being born; Grace leaving. Meeting Mcgarrett; meeting Mcgarrett.

_Need to escape._ Danny decided, knowing that as soon as he doesn't show up tomorrow, Steve is going to head straight for his apartment.

_Better off without you._ He nodded in agreement with the voice, hauled himself up from the sofa, stumbled a little. He knocked his knee on the sharp edge of the small table, ripped the skin, but he didn't feel it, didn't realise until he felt the warm trickle of blood.

"Damn it." He muttered, before drinking another gulp from the now almost empty bottle. He snatched the bag with the other three bottles in, finished the bottle in his hand, and discarded it by tossing it onto the sofa. He shrugged when it bounced off and landed on the tiled flooring, smashing into three pieces. He moved into his bedroom, yanked open the top drawer of his clothes chest and pulled out his P90. _Just in case,_ he thought as he holstered it as his hip. He then headed for the beast parked outside, forgetting his shoes, and didn't bother with locking the front door – because Steve would only bust it open anyway – but stopped before getting behind the wheel. Of course the Camaro would be the first thing Steve put a BOLO out on. There weren't very many of them casually driving around Hawaii, so he'd be easy to find, regardless of where he headed for. He looked at his watch. It was approaching 1am; Steve could be at the office in as little as 4 hours if he had one of his sleepless nights, and Danny knew that he'd have all airports, train stations and harbours watched as soon as he realised Danny had made a break for it. He may as well carry a GPS tracking chip if he was going to drive the Camaro. Feeling the wallet in his pocket, checking the Camaro was locked and alarmed, he headed for the 24hour vehicle rental place two blocks over.


	2. Chapter 2

***H50***

**Chapter 2**

**Five-0**

Steve couldn't shake the picture of Danny's haunted face in his head. Something wasn't right with his partner, and he'd suspected that the time off of work hadn't been helping him, so much as hindering. He sat at his desk, eyeing the stack of paperwork he'd meant to do, but still hadn't gotten around to. He pushed back into his chair, looked up through the glass office wall at Chin tapping away at the Smart Table.

"Chin, come in here." He called through the open door, and his friend hadn't hesitated.

"Steve?" He'd pulled a chair up opposite his boss.

"Have you spoken to Danny this morning?" Steve asked, looking at the time. It was 09:34am, and if Danny was going to show, he was pretty sure he'd have done it by now.

"No, I haven't spoken to him since the day before yesterday. Why do you ask?" Chin shook his head, didn't miss the concern in McGarrett's eyes.

"He seemed off last night. Something isn't right." He voiced his concerns. "He said he'd be in today, and he hasn't showed."

"Have you spoke to Catherine about it?"

"Yeah, she's going over to check on him before coming in herself. She thinks he just needs time." Steve waited, watched for Chin's reaction and felt a little relieved when the tension in his shoulders didn't ease.

"He took quite the beating." Chin nodded. "But he's had worse."

"I just can't shake this feeling..." Steve sighed, ran his hand through his shorter hair.

"I can do a trace on his cell? Maybe see if he's made any calls to worry about? Make sure he's tucked away safely at home?" Chin offered, feeling the stress his boss was under. "I'll need ten minutes at the most."

"Thanks Chin." Steve nodded, a little relieved someone was taking him seriously, knowing that Danny would understand if he found out. Chin smiled, got up and headed straight for the smart table again, this time with an important task at hand.

McGarrett's phone started to vibrate, and he hurried to answer it when he saw 'CATHERINE' flash on the screen.

"Cath?"

"Steve." She sounded tense, and Steve stood up, ready to rush out if he needed to. "I think you need to come down here."

"What's happened?" He asked, as he pulled open his desk drawer and holstered his SIG-Sauer P226 Navy at his hip.

"I'm not sure. I just really think you need to see this." Steve's heart skipped a beat, knowing that if Cathrine wouldn't talk over the phone, it could be bad.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." He promised, hanging up and pocketting the cell as Chin rushed into Steve's office.

"Either Danny has his phone off, or...I can't get a trace, a location...Steve, I cant find him." Chin handed over his Microsoft tablet to show the flashing warning triangle, but Steve barely cast a glance before handing it back.

"Gear up, we're going to Danny's apartment. Catherine has something to show us." Chin nodded, headed for his office to get his own sidearm, and met Steve down at his truck.

Catherine was waiting outside when they'd arrived, resting up against the Camaro. Her arms were crossed, back straight, and she didn't ease when the two men got out of the vehicle.

"Cath, what's up?" Steve greeted, felt a little at ease seeing the Camaro parked on the drive, because Danny wouldn't go anywhere without it.

"Come with me." She ordered, leading the way to Danny's home. At first, everything looked normal to Steve, until he walked into the living rooom. The first thing he saw was the broken glass bottle on the floor. He took the pair of glaves handed to him by Chin, then crouched down and picked the largest piece up. The black and white Jack Daniels label was easily recognised, and Steve felt the concern deepen.

"He's been drinking." He addressed the two cops in the room. His eyes moved up, and came to rest on the pieces of cell phone. "Think I know why you couldn't trace his call, Chin." He nodded to the mess across the room, and Chin moved over to pick up the pieces in his gloved hand.

"The screen is cracked. Looks like he's thrown it across the room." He put the battery back in, and luckily the screen comes to life. "It's just the outer layer of glass that's broken, the digitiser and lcd seem to be fine..." He scrolled to the call list, and then to messages as Steve and Catherine watched. "Last call was a missed one from you, Steve. And last message was from you, too." Chin looked up, and Steve nodded.

"Lat night, I'd tried to call him after he left mine but he didn't answer. So I sent him a text message, but he didn't reply."

"There's blood here, too." Catherine crouched down and pointed to four drops, headed for the front door. "I think he's cut himself on the corner of the table; there's dried blood on there. I'd say it was only a superficial laceration." She stood back up and carried on with her previous observations. "The bed is undisturbed, all of his clothes in the wardrobe are untouched. It looks like he just took off as he is." Catherine filled in, and Steve's stomach lurched as he rushed into the bedroom and yanked open Danny's sock drawer. Chin and Catherine followed, alerted by his quick movements, and both hitched a breath when faced with Danny's empty gun case.

"Believe me now, Catherine?" Steve shot at her, and she'd have been lying if she said she wasn't a little bit hurt.

"But why would he take off without his car?" Chin voiced. Steve looked at him.

"Danny's a cop, he knows how we work. I'd bet on it that he knew we'd put a APB out on the Camaro as soon as we realised he'd gone." He'd said.

"He doesn't want to be found." Chin agreed, following the same line of thought.

"He couldn't have gotten far on foot." Steve said, looking around the room for more clues, but there weren't any.

"Maybe he didn't have to." Catherine offered. "Isn't there a car rental place just a couple blocks away?"

"Good thinking, Cath. Chin, take the truck and hed back to HQ. Search all traffic cams, ATM cams, anything that might have gotten a shot of Danny. And we need to check his bank accounts. I know that he's not stupid, but from the amount of whiskey it looks like he's had, he might have slipped up. Cath, you can come with me, check on the car rental place. Hopefully between us we'll find something." Steve took command of his team, tried to push back any worrying thoughts he was having about his partner. "I don't care if he wants to be found; we're going to find him anyway."

Chin nodded, hadn't hesitated before leaving the apartment and speeding off in the truck.

"We'll find him." Catherine promised, as she placed a hand on Steve's arm. "I promise."

Steve nodded in acknowledgement, took the Mercury car keys from his lovers hand and headed for the car, Catherine in tow.


	3. Chapter 3

***H50***

**Chapter 3**

**Danny**

He stumbled through the door, catching his toe on the metal lip, and then used the counter to prop himself up. A young lad, probably only 18, stared at him behind thick glasses, eyes wide.

"I need a car." Danny said, trying, and failing, not to slur. The boy sniffed, pushed his glasses up his nose, and glanced at the paper bag in Danny's hand, then over the counter at the ripped pants and bleeding knee, then down at his bare feet. Danny sighed, saw how this was going to be hard work if he allowed. Figuring he'd make the most of being tricked into working with Steve-friggin'-McGarrett, he pulled the badge from his belt and slammed it on the counter. "Five-0. I'm on an undercover op, and _really_ need a car." He lied.

The boys eyes blazed with excitement.

"Yes, Sir!" He nodded, before turning and grabbing a set of keys. "The black SUV on the forecourt, Sir." Then leaned in to whisper to Danny. "Is that gun real?"

Danny rolled his eyes and nodded, ignored the awed expression on the nerds face. "See ya." He waved, taking the keys and badge. Before he walked out the door, "And son, you didn't see me, okay? Forget I was here."

"Yes, Sir. Didn't see you." The boy nodded energetically, and Danny suspected he's just made his night a whole lot better. He huffed, and headed for the only SUV on the lot. At least he'd gotten the kid on side, even if he did feel awful about lying to the spotty geek, but the last thing Danny needed was someone giving over his description, or license plate, to Steve.

_McGarrett, _Danny thought, _was going to be a problem._

He'd started to drive with no destination in mind. Airports were out as he didn't have his passport, and Steve would look there first, so it didn't matter _where _he went, he'd still be stuck on this _'pineapple infested Hell hole'_. He had no cash on him, and couldn't use his card without leaving a trail and he knew if there was a trail, Chin would follow it. He pulled up a few feet from the ATM that shone brightly against the dark night, deciding that even if McGarrett did trace him to here, he'd not find him any where near by and he was clever enough to make sure the car and license plate were out of the ATM's camera range. He kept his head down, took $500 from one card and $400 from his emergency account. For now, that would have to do. He staggered back to the SUV, pleased that he'd probably outsmarted McGarrett.

He drove for another 2 hours, before the flashing warning light for the gas tank came on, and another half an hour before the SUV sputtered and slowed to a halt. Danny coasted to the side of the road, got out and looked around him. He was in the middle of nowhere; one side of the road a mountain side loomed ominously, the other side there was a spit of sand and waves splashing forcefully ashore.

_Oh well._ Danny sighed, reached in for the paper bag, and then, leaving the keys in the ignition – because the car isn't going anywhere – he climbed over the crash barrier and slipped down to the soft sand, losing his balance a few times from the intoxication. He pulled a bottle from the bag, used his teeth to unscrew the cap, and spat it into the black water before chugging a few mouthfuls. It didn't burn any more, but Danny welcomed the warm fuzziness as it raced around his veins.

After a mile or so of walking and drinking, he stumbled and fell. The island rolled around him, and when it finally stopped, it took him a minute to realise the black abyss he was looking into was in fact the sky, and he was flat on his back. He pulled himself up to sit, buried his toes in the cold sand, and took a deep breath.

_Grace would like it here._ Danny mused as he looked up at the stars, and then he remembered that it didn't matter when Grace would like, because Grace wasn't there, and he was all alone. He let out a dry sob, picked up the fallen bottle of whiskey and , ignoring the grains of sand sticking around the opening of the bottle, chugged back three big mouthfuls. His ribs ached from the tumble, so he pulled out the pot from his pocket, tipped out two pills and washed them down with the fiery liquid. Then decided two more wouldn't hurt.

He felt alone, so scarily alone, and the dark cloud loomed closer. He pulled the gun from his holster, weighed it up in his hand.

_Maybe._

When Danny woke on the beach, the sun was already high in the sky, and he still felt dizzy from the alcohol coursing through his system. There was an empty bottle by his feet, another opened one by his head, alongside the paper bag, and his gun was held loosely in his hand. It takes a moment for him to remember why he was there, and when he does, the crushing feeling in his chest returned, he found it hard to catch his breath, and he wanted to cry. Yet no tears would spill.

Danny picked up the almost full bottle, took off the cap and welcomed three long drags. He then took the pill pot out of his pocket, tipped four more pills into his palm, before washing them down with more whiskey. He felt sick.

_Need to move._ The voice echoed, and Danny obeyed. He dragged himself up, fell twice before being successful, and started to head further up the 'beach'.

_What now, Daniel?_

"Don't know." Danny answered the voice, slurring, as he shoved two more pills into his mouth in an attempt to dull the constant ache. "Need to get away." The sand eventually turned to pebbles, pebbles to volcanic rock, and Danny should have felt the sharp edges cutting and stabbing at his feet, but he couldn't feel anything other than the pressure in his chest, pushing, pressing, trying to suffocate him.

"_Why am I not good enough?" _Danny thought as he tripped and staggered over rocks.

_Better of without 'em, Danny boy._ The voice retorted and Danny nodded.

"Better off without me."

He slipped and landed against some jagged rocks, ripped the right sleeve, and blood streamed gently down his arm. Not having the energy or motivation to move, Danny stayed put, cuddling his bottle and drinking tirelessly.

"Hate them." Danny finally concluded, as he drained the last of the burnt orange liquid, looking out at the crashing waves, threatening to come closer and closer and wash him away. "I like cities." He told no one. "Hate islands."

He took the gun from the holster, and stared straight down the barrel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for the reviews you have left. Would just like to agree with Mari that, yes, Danny is absolutely not himself right now, which is fully intended for the nature of the story. He's had a lot to drink and taken a lot of those painkillers, so we know poor Danny is suffering and not thinking very clearly, but fingers crossed Steve will find him soon and start piecing him back together. :)**

**Chapter 4**

**Five-0**

Al's rentals was known locally as chop'n'shop; the place to get wheels, fast, without questions. Steve had found it ironic that this was the place Danny would turn to after trying to pin something, _anything,_ on the owner, Al Lorenzo, so he could shut the place down.

_"You do not understand." Danny had protested, waving his hands passionately. "This is the kind of guy that helps criminals,_ criminals_, stay on the streets. And, whilst I appreciate Mr McSEAL here doesn't have any immediate family on the island to worry about – and no, your mother does not count because she probably knows ten ways to kill me with her pinky – I do. I have Grace. And whilst there are losers like this guy hanging around Hawaii, I am not adequately doing my job, or protecting my daughter."  
__"He's just a car dealer, Danny." Steve had rolled his eyes. "He deals with cars."  
__"That is exactly what he wants you to think." Danny had pointed to Steve's head. "I've seen plenty of asses in my time, to know when I am seeing one, and he is _most definitely_ one of them."  
__"Okay." Steve had raised his hands in surrender, chewed his tongue to stop the grin reaching his lips. "Whatever you say, Danno. I believe you."  
_Danny hadn't given up until Steve reluctantly agreed to try to help him take the owner down. But now, he'd disappeared, going via his suspect for help.

Steve and Catherine stepped through the metal door, over the lip, and into the offices. Al Lorenzo looked up from behind his laptop computer, and closed it quickly when he laid eyes on the two before him. They practically oozed 'cop' from their pores.

"Can I help you?" He asked, standing to greet them, the gold chain around his neck catching Catherine's eye.

"I'm look for someone that may have come in here last night, looking for wheels. Do you have any security camera's we can look over?"

"We don't record no one. Respect our customers privacy." Lorenzo practically sneered.

"Were you on shift last night?" Steve's nostrils flared and his hands twitched.

"I wasn't." He shook his head, looking from Steve to Catherine and back again. "My boy, Ben, he's on a double. Working 10 til 10. He's washing the cars, due to finish up."

Catherine turned and peered out of the office window. There was a lanky boy with ginger hair and glasses washing one of the old Fords with a large, soapy sponge.

"Mind if we have a word?" Catherine asked, eyes still on the lad.

"Help yourself." Lorenzo ushered, watched as Steve practically marched out of the door and up to the boy. Catherine followed, a slower pace, and as she stepped over the lip, noticed a red-brown smudge. Crouching lower, she realised it was blood, and turned back to Lorenzo.

"Has anyone hurt themselves lately? A paper cut? A graze? Anything?"

"No, lady. No accidents."

"Huh." She'd huffed thoughtfully, before heading after Steve and letting the door slam behind her.

She could hear Steve's raised voice from across the forecourt, see the terrified look on Ben's face. He couldn't have been more than eighteen, a child in Catherine's eyes.

"Did someone come in last night, looking for a car?" She heard Steve demand as she approached. Ben dropped the sponge into a bucket of soapy water, and took a step back to distance himself from the pissed off cop.

"I-I didn't see anyone." He lied, stammering.

"No one at all?" Steve continued, taking another step towards the teenager as he indicated to his shoulder. "About this high, blonde hair, drunk?"

"N-No, we were quiet all n-night." He lied again, his eyes widening, his body shaking.

"Are you sure?" Steve's voice lowered, intimidating, and Catherine found it too hard to watch.

"Steve," Catherine interjected, gently pulling Steve away by his arm so she could speak to him without Ben overhearing. "He's just a kid, calm down."

"He's lying." Steve had hissed back.

"I know, but can't you see how you're scaring him? Look, there's blood on the lip of the door, I'd say less than 24 hours old, possibly Danny's. If he was here, we need to take it easy on him. Shake it off, Commander." She explained, before taking a step towards Ben. Steve, thankfully, stayed back, allowing her to take the lead for once.

"Hey, Ben...can I call you that?" She spoke softly and carried on when he nodded, eyes flicking from her to McGarrett and back. "Ben, this guy is our friend, and he's missing. We're really worried about him and just want to make sure he's okay." She pulled her newly acquired FIVE-0 badge from the belt under her shirt and handed it to him. "We're the good guys, here. You can be honest with us." Ben handed the badge back before finally confessing.

"He told me not to say anything."

"It's okay." Catherine encouraged, and Steve stepped forwards to listen.

"He came by at about 1, stank of booze, and looked really rough. I thought at first he was homeless, looking for somewhere to sleep."

"Did he say anything to you?" She continued to probe.

"He said he was working undercover and that he really needed a car. He had a badge like that one." He pointed to the golden crest sitting under Catherine's blouse. "I gave him the keys to my SUV, but it had less than a ¼ tank of fuel."

"Do you remember anything else?"

"No, I don't think so." Ben shook his head, and then, after a thoughtful look passed over his face. "He had a gun, and no shoes. I thought that was odd. Looked like he'd fallen and cut his knee, too."

"You've done really well, Ben." Catherine smiled, almost feeling the tension in Steve's body next to her. "We're going to need the license plate for your SUV and a description to give to HPD."

Ben nodded, a little more relaxed, and handed over all the details he thought Catherine needed.

"He is going to be okay, isn't he?" He'd finally asked, the worried expression reminding Steve of Grace. "I don't want to get him in trouble."

"He's going to be fine." Catherine nodded, not sure if she was trying to reassure Ben, herself or Steve. "We'll be in touch if we need anything else. Thank you."

"Let's go." Steve ordered, turning on his heel and heading for the Mercury parked on the side of the road. Catherine gave a departing smile, before catching up with Steve. "I'm going to call Chin and update him, you call HPD and get an APB out on that SUV. With a bit of luck, we'll find the car and Danny along with it." He continued as they reached the car. Catherine pulled her phone out of her pocket.

"Hey, Steve." She said, facing him over the car's roof, before either got inside. "Danny wouldn't drive drunk. He's not himself."

"I know." Steve nodded, worry lines etched deep into his forehead, before he yanked open the driver side door and slid in behind the wheel. Catherine took a deep breath, sent a silent prayer to protect her friend, before joining her partner in the car.

As Steve pulled away from Al's, he dialled in Chin's number and put it on speaker. The lieutenant answered on the first ring.

"_Kelly"_

"Chin, I need you to do a cam search for a black SUV, License plate; HGX 778. Danny took one from Al's this morning, at around 1am. Also check gas stations, ATM's, the airports, train stations, harbours." Steve commanded.

"_I've got it covered." _Chin answered. _"Are you heading back to HQ?"_

"Not yet, I'm going to drive around for a bit, see if I can find him myself. With a bit of luck, he's parked up somewhere and passed out."

"_Roger that, Commander."_ Chin ended the call shortly after Catherine had ended her call to HPD.

"There's a BOLO out on the SUV, so with a bit of luck, we'll find him within the hour." She informed, not quite believing her own words, but that didn't matter.

"I think we should scour the residential roads. Maybe he didn't go far?" Steve suggested, and Catherine agreed.

"Let's start with Rachel's house. He might have gone to see Grace."

"Yeah, we'll start there." Steve nodded, the worry line increasing in depth. Catherine desperately wanted to reach over and smooth it out, but a squeeze to the knee would have to suffice.

* * *

Several hours had passed, dragging time slowly, but Steve didn't stop looking. Twice he put gas into the car, twice he'd argued with Catherine about returning to HQ and carrying on the search there, digitally.

"I'm not leaving him on the streets." He'd stated.

"I'm not asking you to abandon the search." Catherine had defended herself against the hard tone. "Just to start looking from a different view point."

"If Danny is out there, I'm going to find him."

"You look tired." She's counteracted. "At least let me take over behind the wheel?"

"No, I'm good." Steve shook his head, ignoring the tired sting of his eyes, the headache from concentrating on the roads for too long, worrying and playing bad scenario's in his head. "We'll look up here next." He'd diverted the attention as he turned into the next residential road. Cars parked neatly along the curb, some on driveways of expensive looking houses, but there wasn't a black SUV parked on this street, either.

"Maybe we should check the airports? He might have headed for the mainland?" Catherine suggested as the clock ticked past 2pm.

"No, Danny would have known we'd check there."

"But maybe..."

"He's not there, Catherine." Steve snapped, tired of all the 'maybes' and 'what ifs'. His partner had been missing now for over 12 hours, drunk and depressed, and Steve was starting to get frustrated.

"Okay." She'd submitted, softly. The tense muscles in Steve's arm, the white knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel, the narrowing of his eyes, the furrowed brows, all told Catherine that, for the first time in a very long while, Steve McGarrett was scared.

He thought he knew Danny, that he'd never disappear like this, that he'd always come to Steve, his friend, his _best_ friend, if he needed to get something off of his chest. Never, in this lifetime, did Steve think Danny would just leave; leave Grace, leave Five-0, leave him.

_'I feel like I'm losing control...I don't think paperwork is the answer to my problems..."_

Steve took a sharp intake of breath.

"Shit." He mumbled, gripping the wheel tighter, catching Catherine's attention, as they headed for Pearl City.

"What's wrong?" She asked almost immediately.

"He came to me last night." Steve answered, shaking his head, seemingly disappointed. "What if he's hurt, Cath?"

"You can't think like that." She dared to take her eyes from the passing cars, glance at her lover, friend, boss.

"Why the Hell not?" He exploded, making her jump a little as he punched the wheel with his right hand, and then rubbed it over his weary face. "He came to me, Cath. Practically asked for my help, and I called him_ sensitive_."

"You weren't to know." She soothed, putting her hand on his arm.

"I should have listened to him! He'd told me he was losing control, and I laughed. I actually _laughed!"_

"You are not responsible for this, Steve. Okay? You're not a Doctor, you're a cop. You couldn't have stopped this happening. And when we find him, I promise you, we're going to get him the best possible help, but right now, you need to stop blaming yourself. This is not your fault."

Steve shook his head, disagreeing.

"He's my partner, I should have listened. He needed my help, and I should have had his back. This is entirely my fault."

"Steve..."

"Dammit, Catherine. Stop trying to make me feel better." He shouted, and she sunk back into her seat. She knew he didn't mean it, and she didn't take it to heart. Instead, she brought her knees to her chest, rested her head on the window and resumed her lookout for the black SUV, or the blonde haired Detective.

* * *

Chin Ho Kelly tapped furiously at the Smart Table, back at Five-0 headquarters. On six different camera's he'd managed to pick up the Camaro, headed from McGarrett's house to Danny's, and then, fast forwarding an hour and forty three minutes, he'd managed to find Danny stumbling towards Al Lorenzo's car rental place. Chin was dismayed at his appearance; he's apparently left his shoes at home, his hair was no longer slicked back, but falling around his face, and he staggered dangerously. For a split second, he angers at HPD for not picking him up, but then redirects the heat into determination.

"What's going through that head of yours, brah?" He asked out loud, as he watched Danny walk off screen. "You look lost." He'd noticed Danny being quieter lately, hadn't really involved himself in conversations as much, but he'd assumed it was because he'd been missing work, or his injuries were sore, or he just enjoyed listening for once. Mentally, Chin scorned himself for not paying closer attention to his colleague. He tapped away at the touch sensitive glass, trying to locate another camera in the area, but had no such luck.

The vibrating cell phone caught his attention, and he answered it by putting it on speaker phone.

"Kelly." He greeted, still searching through hours of traffic recordings.

"_Lieutenant? It's Duke."_ The voice of Sergeant Duke Lukela echoed off of the walls in the empty office.

"Duke, what do you have for me?" Chin asked, as he flicked 3 different traffic cam footage to three overhead monitors for easier viewing.

"_We had a call last night from a concerned motorist, reporting a suspected DUI. Description was a black SUV, inconsistent speeds, wobbly on the roads. We were in the middle of despatching a unit when the motorist lost visual, and then cell reception, before he could give us the license plate."_

"Did they say where they were headed to?" Chin asked, peeling his eyes from the monitors and averting them to his phone. Briefly, he allowed himself a flicker of hope.

"_Northbound on the 803, Wilikina Drive."_

"Thanks, I'll relay to McGarrett."

"_Any time, Lieutenant. We have patrols keeping an eye out, too, but no luck so far."_ Duke regretted to inform him.

"Thank you, Duke. Keep in touch." Chin requested, before ending the call and placing a new one to Steve.

"_Chin, what you got?" _Steve answered abruptly.

"I've just got a call from HPD. They had a report come in last night about a suspicious car matching the SUV's description. Unfortunately, the caller didn't manage to get a license plate reading before they lost cell reception. It could be Danny." Chin relayed, his eye's tiring as they watch more footage of cars driving past, some too fast, or late night dog walkers shuffling tiredly along side walks.

"_Where were they headed?" _Steve asked, his voice sounding exhausted, but eager.

"Northbound, along 803, Wilikina Drive." Chin directed as he pulled up Google Maps. "I can't tell where he would be going."

"_I don't know, either, Chin. I can be on 803 in ten minutes."_

"I have more." Chin interjected before McGarrett could end the call. "I've found Danny on a couple of the traffic cam's near his apartment. So far all I can tell you is that he looks intoxicated, is barefoot, and carrying a large grocery bag. Also looks like his piece is holstered."

"_It doesn't sound like the Danny we know."_ Steve sighed.

"That's not all." He continued, glumly. "I've had the info back on Danny's bank accounts. He withdrew a substantial amount of cash from two card accounts at around 2am this morning. He used a local ATM machine, but I've tried pulling the cams and they're both out of action. He took a sum of $500 from one account, which looks like his main one, but another $400 from a savings account."

"_Why would he need that much money?" _

"Nobody matching his description has entered any airport. Train station, or the docks, so I'm going to bet my life that he's still on the island, somewhere."

"_Good. If he's on the Island, he can't be far away"_ Steve's voice sounded tight, and never did Chin think he'd use the phrase 'finding a needle in a haystack', but right now, nothing seemed more appropriate.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for all reviews, I welcome them gratefully. I also welcome criticism, and appreciate all comments. I'm working hard on getting this right. I'm rewriting the end, and how it goes depends on how well my evening tonight and my day tomorrow plays out.  
Fingers crossed, Danny can pull through this.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Danny**

Not here, not yet.

Danny couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. He hung his head, resigned, brought the gun down to rest in his lap; the familiarity of it somewhat a comfort. He flipped it over and over, studying it, remembering the day he'd been handed the piece. Rick Peterson had been a good friend, partner, and when he'd given the gun to Danny as a gift on their first Christmas shift together, it had cemented their friendship. Danny thought he could trust Rick with his life, quite often left him babysitting mini-Grace so he and Rachel could have a rare date night together, and when he'd been shot in the shoulder by a lowlife car criminal, Rick had been the one to put pressure on the wound and call for backup. But when Danny had noticed evidence going missing – drugs, money, the occasional gun – he couldn't chose to ignore it, started to do his own private investigation. It wasn't until the case had gone to court and Peterson was convicted, that Danny had truly started to believe that the man he'd let into his home, his life, was nothing more than a dirty cop. Foolishly, Danny had hoped that had been the end of it, but no, Peterson had other ideas, and took revenge to a whole new level when he kidnapped Grace and forced Danny's hand into shooting Step-Stan.

Danny snorted, still unable to get his head around what could have happened to Grace if he hadn't gotten to her in time.

_You're own fault, Williams. Should'a left well alone._ The voice derided, and deep down, Danny couldn't help but blame himself, again, for putting Grace in the hands of a psychopath. _Not the only time, either._

Danny sighed as he took out the remaining bottle of Jack Daniels and his pill pot from the bag. Half of his prescription had gone, and he tried to recall taking that many, but can't. He can't remember anything but the look on Grace's face when he'd cancelled their trip to the zoo and month ago, the look on McGarrett's face when he'd forgotten their BBQ plans last weekend, the look on his ex-partner Grace's face before she got shot, once, twice, into the chest, because he'd been too stubborn to talk. He doubled over as an invisible punch landed in his gut, sorrow and despair flooding him.

_Always the let down._

He let out a dry sob, and continued to weep until he heard the distant shrill of laughter. He looked up, scanned the small excuse for a beach, and set eyes upon a small family of four; a baby, child and two adults, one of which was heading for the waves with a surf board under his arm.

_Go away. Leave me be._ Danny mentally shouted, almost considered staying put, but the small boy had spotted him and was pointing in his direction. He groaned. Even without McGarrett knowing where he was, he still wasn't going to get the alone time he so desperately wanted.

"Time to move." He told himself, using a rock to help pull himself up. He doesn't move, the ground beneath him seemed to be shaking, a fireball of nausea swirled in his stomach, and he felt tired and weak. He took two deep, slow breaths, fighting the urge to vomit and spill the liquid contents.

_Gotta move._ The voice commanded. Danny nodded, pushed his stiff joints to work, one foot in front of the other, willing his knees not to buckle and legs collapse under him.

The rocks began to taper to a tiny ledge; one even Danny didn't fancy scooting around, forcing him to get back onto the road. The even surface was easier to stagger along, but he was getting tired, his heart was hammering relentlessly, and he was pretty sure he was going to vomit.

Cars raced past, many drivers blared horns, others shouted profanities out of the window at him, and all Danny wanted was for one, just one, to be going fast enough to hit him and just end the turmoil he was battling inside. He continued to move forward, occasionally falling to his hands and knees, but still he nudged forward, no destination in mind, clutching his precious bottle. After what seemed an eternity, he stopped outside a motel, the 'VACANCY' sign illuminated, the car lot half full.

_Peace and quiet._ The voice urged, tempting him.

"No people." Danny nodded, headed for the front desk.

The office space was small, only large enough for a counter with a computer and a large plant pot in the corner. Had Danny really been taking notice, he'd have appreciated the simple architecture, moaned at the annoying 'elevator' music playing softly, and cringed at the gothic, middle aged woman behind the desk.

Danny's vision began to fade, almost as if the colour was being drained from the world, and the edges fuzzed. He needed sleep.

The woman, dressed in a black dress with silvery spider webs embroidered over the bodice, didn't look up as Danny tumbled through the wooden front door, engrossed in the phone call she was having on her private cell. He trudged up to the front desk, used it to prop himself up, exhaustion settling bone deep. The receptionist, _Anastasia_ Danny read from her name tag, raised one pierced eyebrow at him, scrunched her nose in distaste.

"Hold on." She drawled into the handset before addressing Danny. "Can I help you?"

"'M'a need'a room." Danny slurred, slapping his wallet down in front of her.

"Dude, you need a _hospital_ room." She scoffed, peering around him at the bloody footprints he'd left on her shiny, clean floor.

"Jus' wan' sleep." He shook his head, and wished he hadn't. "Please?"

"Let me see what we've got." She turned to her computer, cell phone pressed between cheek and shoulder as she typed. "I have one double, $149 per night."

"I'll take it." Danny nodded, took a chunk of the bills from his wallet and tossed them towards her, not knowing or caring how much it was, only that it was plenty.

"Are you sure you don't need me to call you an ambulance?" She prodded, pointed to Danny's red footprints.

"Jus' a room." He insisted, felt a little relieved when Anastasia retrieved a key from the glass cabinet behind her.

"And you're sure there's no one I can call for you?" She double checked, the key weighing heavily in her hand.

"No." Danny shook his head again, felt his brain rattle and winced. "I jus' wanna sleep." Anastasia seemed to be wavering, but Danny tried his best smile, and she finally gave in, handed the key over.

"Room 11." She directed. "There'll be some toiletries in the bathroom; you might want to take a shower."

He shuffled down the paved path, more often than not colliding with the walls and other red doors, reopening the gash on his arm and leaving red, bloody smudges. Room 11 was the fifth red door – an oddity Danny should have noticed, but didn't – the brass '11' plaque slightly off centre. Getting the key in the lock proved to be a mission in itself. Danny's vision was blurring, and no matter how often he blinked, he couldn't clear the haze. Eventually, out of sheer luck and tiring determination, the key had slid into it's slot, turned with ease, and the door opened with a loud creak. Danny stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him, leaned back against it and closed his eyes.

In the room, there were two queen sized beds next to each other, a chest of drawers supporting a portable television opposite them, a small table with two chairs under the window, and at the far end, a door that no doubt lead to the bathroom.

_So tired._ Using the little strength he had left, he pushed from the door, took one, two, three steps and collapsed on the nearest bed.

"Feel sick." He said to no one. "Head hurts." He propped himself up on one elbow, took the pill container from his pocket and tipped out two, and then, desperate to stop the pain, two more. Using the small bottle of _JD_, he swallowed the four pills and then rolled so he was on his back, staring at the ceiling. "Sick." He groaned, wrapping his arms around his painful, distended abdomen, before heaving. Moving quicker than he cared to, he rolled, hanging his head over the side of the bed, grabbed the waste paper basket kept next to the bedside cabinet, and vomited three times, leaving his stomach burning, his ribs protesting and his head throbbing. Completely spent, he flopped back onto his back, sweating profusely, and let sleep take over him.

When he finally awoke, the sun had set and the room was in darkness. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, tried to fight the nausea threatening to over power him again, and succeeded with some deep breathing. His head throbbed, and his eyes hurt, and when he tried to stand, he ended up dry heaving into the waste paper basket, the smell of the previous bout of puking only making matters worse. He tried to remember where he was, couldn't and didn't recognise the room, yet he couldn't bring himself to care. After more deep breathing, he stood from the bed, waited for the room to stop spinning before him, and then headed for the bathroom, zigzagging across the room, toes dragging over cheap carpet.

He bent over the sink, more deep breath's to ward of the urge to turn himself inside out, and turned on the hot tap. Whilst waiting for it warm, because Danny suspected there wasn't a chance of it getting _hot_, he hazard a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

His eyes were red, bloodshot, and barely open, his blonde hair was a mess, falling around his face rather than slicked back, his shirt was torn and crusty from the dried blood, and his skin was white and clammy, his lips slightly blue. Yet, instead of caring about how _un-Danny_ he looked, he could only see a deadbeat, selfish loser that had put his daughter in the way of too many sociopaths with guns and bad attitudes, had lost the woman he had loved with every cell in his 5"5 body, and who's life had become one literal car crash after another. Desperate to un-see what he was seeing, Danny pulled back his right arm, clenched his fist, stared the man before him straight in the eye, and landed his fist smack in the centre of the mirror. Glass fractured, splintered, and unsatisfied, Danny tried again, one, two, three more times, until glass fell from the frame, littering the linoleum floor around him. Turning, too fast, Danny lost his balance, fell to the floor hitting his forehead on the toilet seat as he went, his face landing in shards of glass.

"Useless." He slurred, his head feeling like it was going to explode. Slowly, after the grey spots disperse from his vision, he pushes himself up, sat next to the toilet and rested his head back against the wall. "Jus' want it to end." He whimpered. He should have acknowledged the large shard of glass protruding from his wrist, settled amongst veins, but either he didn't feel it, or he didn't care.

Danny didn't measure the amount of time he spent on the cold, hard floor, but when he finally emerged from the small bathroom, the sun had begun to rise and he didn't feel so drunk any more. His wrist was bleeding sluggishly, a slow stream trailing down his palm and dripped from his smallest finger, and he wished it would bleed faster.

_You'll never be good enough, Daniel. _The voice reminded him.

"I know." Danny agreed, moving listlessly to sit on the end of the bed closest to the bathroom, not having the energy or inclination to move to the other one.

_You're pathetic._

"I know." He sighed, as he draws his gun, checks the brass in the chamber. His insides burned, he was pretty sure he had a migraine, and his chest felt like it was trying to cave in on him. He wept as he reached for the bag on the other bed, containing the pills and whiskey, and once he was back upright, he unscrewed the bottle cap with his teeth, spat the lid onto the floor and took four mouthfuls, so desperate to numb the persistent ache that had become Danny William's life. He put the bottle between his knees, picked up the orange pill pot and twirled it in his fingers, gun still secure in his other. Maybe, if the gun didn't work, maybe the pills...

"Yeah, maybe." He nodded, eyeing the remaining tablets.

_Rachel left you._

"I know."

_Matty left you._

"I know."

_Even Grace is going to leave you._

"I know." Danny nodded, swigging from his bottle again.

_You are a failure._

"I am a failure." Danny accepted, slipped the safety off and placed the barrel into his mouth, the metallic, oily taste skimming across his tongue. The room blurred, started to spin, his eyes filled with salty water.

"_I love you, Grace." _He thought, a silent prayer, as a single tear fell from his eye.

And then **BANG**, he fell back on to the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry this chapter is really short, and doesn't really answer your questions about poor Danny. I'm super tired from being up all night with a sick baby, and then somehow, I managed to crash my computer, losing EVERYTHING. So now I'm having to rewrite from here on. BUT, am hoping to have a long chapter up tomorrow - it might even be the ending, who knows! Let's hope I wake up feeling a bit better tomorrow, because with the bad mood and crappy day I've had, if I was deciding the ending right now, Danny would be dead! **

**Thank you for all of your reviews, I really appreciate them! They're pushing me on to carry on. Send love to all of the readers. XoX**

**H50**

**FIVE-0**

Steve was sitting at the smart table watching the facial recognition software scan thousands of faces in milliseconds; people walking their dogs, shopping in malls, driving along the free-way. He sighed. After driving the many streets of as many towns as they could before the sun had set, Steve had finally admitted defeat and had allowed Catherine to talk him into coming back to HQ and getting some rest. But there was no way Steve was going to rest until Danny was home, safe. For three hours he'd watched the computer try to match anything – eyes, nose, mouth, cheekbone structure – of strangers faces against the picture of Danny kept on his Police employment record. Hundreds of faces flitted across the screen, none of them the one he wanted to see.

Chin rubbed his face, and Steve looked up at him across the table. He's also refused to go home until he knew where the Detective was, having already lost Kono, not ready to lose another friend.

"You look beat." Steve commented, and Chin met his eyes.

"You don't look so hot yourself, brah." He smiled, tired.

"You should go and get some rest, kip on the couch. I can call you if I..." Steve had started, but Chin shook his head and cut him off.

"No, not until we know." Steve nodded in understanding, turned back to the screens in front of them, Chin copying. "What do you think he's going through?" Without taking his eyes from the monitors.

"I wish I knew, Chin." Steve sighed, again. "How did I miss this?"

"We all did." Chin reminded him. "He hasn't been himself since the Haleem case, but I assumed he was just brooding over getting his ass kicked."

"He did take quite the beating." Steve nodded, remembering the moment he'd found his partner bruised and bloody in the back garage of the suspects house. "But he's had worse."

"Possibly an undiagnosed head injury?" Chin offered up, neither wanting to believe it an option.

"Possibly." Steve eventually nodded. "But let's hope not."

The Five-0 task force had been tracking the drug dealer Abdul Haleem for over three months, trying to gather enough evidence to take him down. They'd almost caught him three times, each time he'd alluded them and left at least the body of one Officer in the aftermath. Steve had been on the North Shore when Danny had called him from his car, during his own personal stake out, telling him he'd found Abdul and that he was in the perfect position to take down. Steve had promised to be there within thirty minutes, that Danny wasn't to engage, but they'd had one of their arguments just three hours previous, and Danny had taken it upon himself to prove that he was just as capable and just as tough as his SEAL friend. When Steve had arrived on scene, he had had to use a tear gas grenade to stop Haleem pulling the trigger of the gun he had pressed against Danny's head. He'd shot off two rounds into the fog, killing the perp and then had to drag Danny's limp, unconscious body from the garage. For a second, Steve had feared the worst, but he only had a slight concussion, a broken nose, three cracked ribs and a _lot_ of bruising.

Silence settled in the Five-0 headquarters, the only sound that could be heard was that of the computer fan humming and the occasional shuffle when the men needed to shift position in their seats. After another half an hour, the computer sounded an alarm, waking Steve from his dozing state.

"What was that?" He asked as he rushed to join Chin, who'd already beaten him to the Smart Table.

"We've got a hit on the black SUV." He said, zooming in on the footage. "A mobile cam had picked it up on Kamehameha Highway."

"What was he doing on the North Shore?" Steve asked, peering at the driver of the car. The blonde haired Detective was waving his hands enthusiastically, and Steve automatically recognised, what he called, the 'argument wave'. "Who's he talking to? He's arguing with someone."

Chin panned the camera around, so he was facing the car head on, and zoomed back into the windshield area.

"He's in the car alone." He pointed to the screen, but didn't need to as it was fairly obvious. "He appears to be talking to himself."

"Something isn't right, Chin. Look at him. He doesn't even _look_ like Danny. What time was this footage taken?"

Chin tapped on the interactive screen, pulled up the details of the video they were watching.

"03:26am." He highlighted the information. "Maybe now that we know the time, I can try and pull some more cams, use them as stepping stones to track his whereabouts."

"At least we know he was okay," Steve checked his watch, "twenty one hours ago."

"So much time has passed. It's taken this long just to get this two minute footage of him. Steve, he's being careful. He's so far avoided all main routes with traffic cams, patrol cars. He knows what he's doing, even if it is subconsciously."

"We have to stay positive. In the state he's in, he's bound to make a mistake. No one is perfect." Steve shook his head. "As soon is sun is up, I'm going back out there. Find me somewhere to start looking, Chin."

Chin nodded, started locating camera's along the highway Danny had been spotted on.

"Go home and get some sleep, Commander. I've got this." Chin almost ordered, just as concerned about his boss who was barely able to hold his own weight up.

"No." Steve set his jaw stubbornly. "Not until he," pointed to the picture of Danny on the screen, "is back where he belongs."

Several more long, drawn out, hours passed, and both men had finally agreed that they'd take it in turns to watch the computer whilst the other took ten minute naps in their office. Catherine had swung by Danny's apartment again, hunting for clues, and when she'd turned up at HQ just after 5 in the morning empty handed, Steve had sent her home to get some sleep. At first, she'd refused, but when Steve had promised to call her the minute he knew anything, she'd finally given in and left them to their work.

"I shouldn't have let him take on Abdul alone." Steve mused, breaking the silence in the office. Chin looked at him, confusion etched on his face.

"You didn't 'let' him do anything, Steve. He'd made the decision himself."

"If this is because of a damn head injury, because of that stupid argument..."

"We have to think positive." Chin said, forever the voice of reason.

"I've never known him to act so bizarrely. I mean, look at him! He looks like he's on acid, or something." Steve fretted, watching the clip of Danny arguing with himself. A thoughtful look passed over Chin's face, and Steve thought he might have actually been considering the possibility of Danny doing illegal drugs.

"Danny had a few cracked ribs, didn't he?" He finally asked.

"Yeah, three, I think. Why?" Steve answered, intrigued as Chin started to tap on his tablet.

"When Danny cracked his ribs last time, he'd been prescribed codeine phosphate, which is a mild opioid. But, he'd said that it hadn't been touching the pain, and had gone back to the Dr for some stronger meds. Do you remember him calling in sick that one time?"

"Yeah, but what's that got to do with now? That was over a year ago." Steve nodded, sitting up straighter, as Chin transferred a file from his table to the monitor in front of Steve.

"Well, if you were a Dr, and a patient had come to you presenting a similar condition as the previous year, what would you do? Prescribe the original meds that didn't work, or just go straight for the ones that did?"

Steve studied the file in front of him; a copy of Danny's prescription from his recent stint in hospital.

"Go straight for door number two." Steve muttered, more to himself, and then addressed Chin. "He's on morphine?"

"Yes, and quite a high dose, too. 30Mg of morphine sulphate would be quite strong pain relief if he was, say, taking two tablets four times a day. He must have been feeling worse than he let on to either of us."

"What are the side effects of Morphine?" Steve asked, turning away from the prescription and watched Chin consult his tablet again.

"The usual." He shrugged. "Headaches, drowsiness, constipation, depression, loss of appetite." He read from a list aloud. "The list is endless."

"Depression?" Steve asked. "Danny had said he'd felt like he was losing control. Do you think maybe the morphine was affecting him?"

"I'm not a Dr." Chin shook his head. "But I'd say that the morphine, mixed with alcohol, isn't going to help matters."

"We need to find him, Chin. If he's drinking on the meds, he could be worse off than we realised, and probably wouldn't think twice about doing something stupid." Steve glanced at his watch. It was 6:09am; the sun would be rising soon and Steve would be returning to the streets of Oahu to resume his search. "I'm going to close my eyes for ten minutes. Call me if you find anything." Chin nodded, but before Steve managed to reach his office, the computer sounded it's alarm.

"Steve, I've found something." Chin called, sarcastically, but didn't need to as Steve was already by his side.

"What is it?" He asked.

"More traffic cam footage, just sent in by a patrol car." Chin explained as he pressed 'PLAY'. They watched the video, three minutes of staring out of the cars windsheild, before Steve had almost shouted at Chin.

"Woah wait, back it up." And then when Chin had pressed rewind. "Woah, wait, pause it there!"

Both men stepped closer to the monitors, and then each shoulder released just a little bit of tension.

"That's the car." Steve said, almost a hint of excitement in his voice. "That's the SUV. Where is this?"

"Erm." Chin opened the email that the Officer had sent the attachment through. "Kamehameha Highway. Half an hour ago."

"He's still up there?" Steve frowned.

"Might have passed out from the intoxication?" Chin offered, as Steve grabbed the keys from his office, before saying to Chin,

"Gear up. We're going to bring our boy home."


	7. Chapter 7

**So, I've finally brought this one to an end. I'm sorry these past couple of days have been flaky, I still have a poorly baby and by the time I've had time to write, I've been pretty exhausted! So sorry if this chapter isn't everything you hoped it to be!**

**Thanks for all of the reviews, they've really pushed me on to finish this one, guys. Especially after somehow losing the original :(**

**Anyway..happy reading!**

**H50**

**Five-0**

Steve wasn't naïve enough to believe life was like the movies. He knew the odds of finding a kidnap victim if no ransom demands were made, the chances of finding a missing person alive and well after 48 hours, the long drawn out process of investigations. Just because they had found the SUV didn't mean that they'd find Danny safe and sound, if they'd find Danny at all.

As he sped along the highway, he'd run possible scenario's through his mind; Danny passed out behind the wheel, or lying on the backseat asleep, or slumped over in the front, pale and cold, dead from multiple seizures, or maybe he'd just be sitting there, smiling, waiting for Steve to find him like this was some sort of sick test.

"Steve, there's the car." Chin had pulled him from his thoughts, pointing to the SUV parked on the side of the road.

"I've got it." Steve nodded, bringing his truck to a halt a few meter's back, killing the flashing blue lights.

"How do you want to do this?" Chin asked, whilst checking his gun, making sure the safety was still on.

"We pretend it's not Danny." Steve commanded. "Proceed as normal."

Chin nodded as he pushed open the door and got out of the truck, Steve doing the same. They both edged towards the car, slowly, one hand resting on the pistol's at their hips. Steve signaled for Chin to take the right whilst he moved off to the left, both keeping pace with each other as they flanked the vehicle.

Steve peered in through the rear window, briefly hoping to find Danny asleep, a little disappointed when he didn't; it was clear. Breathing steady, he approached the driver's side door. Pressed up against the warm metal, he reached forward to interlock his fingers with the handle, counted to three in his head, and then pulled. The door flew open easily, and Steve stepped around, hand ready to draw the gun should he need to. His heart deflated at the sight of an empty car. Chin's face held the same emotion as he looked at his boss from the passenger side.

"He's not here." Steve fumed, stepping back and allowing the adrenaline to drain from his system, slowing his heart rate back down. He kicked the wheel of the car, ran his hands through his hair.

"Keys are still in the ignition." Chin pointed out, and McGarrett took a deep breath to regain composure before pulling on a pair of latex gloves he'd kept in his pocket. He reached in around the steering wheel and pulled them from the slot.

"Why would he leave these?" As he twirled them on his finger. "He had to be pretty certain nobody would steal the car, right?"

"Maybe it ran out of gas?"

"You know, the boy at Al's had told Catherine it had less than a quarter of a tank when Danny had taken it. Maybe he'd run it dry."

"It would make sense. And if that's the case, he's on foot."

"He couldn't have gotten far." Steve stepped back again, looked up and down the almost straight road, at the rainforest covered mountain on one side of it, and then turned around to look at the meager trick of a beach behind him. "He was headed in this direction, and it wouldn't have made sense to back track, and he certainly wouldn't have opted to go on a hike, so he's either continued up the road, or gone down to the waters edge." Steve concluded.

"I'll take the road, you take the beach. We might be able to find something that can give us a clue to where he's going." Chin suggested, and Steve nodded, closing the SUV's door.

Steve slid down the embankment, whilst Chin had kept to the road. Adjacent with each other, both men scoured the ground beneath them, neither confirming or denying the fear they held inside. Gradually, both of the cars behind them disappeared from sight, and the slow jog they'd started with had turned to a fast walk, both feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep. Steve knew that he could push on, ignore the tired pull from each muscle, but he'd slowed his pace, remembering Chin hadn't had the training he'd had with the SEAL's. Shells and broken glass, food wrappers and seaweed littered the sand, the waves were fringing closer and closer, but before Steve could call off the search on foot, something glinted in the early Hawaiian sun, catching his eye.

"I think I've got something." He called up to Chin, who'd matched pace when Steve ran to the object. Chin jumped over the barrier, slid down the embankment and joined Steve in staring the the empty _Jack Daniel_ bottle.

"It's recent." Steve noted, as he picked it up in a gloved hand. "There's still a drop of liquor in the bottom. If it had been washed up, the water would have at least diluted it, if not cleaned the bottle out."

"Steve, that's the second bottle we've found." Chin's voice sounded tight, worry evident. "One bottle would be worrisome enough, but two? That's scary."

"With this much alcohol in his system, I'm surprised he's still able to move." Steve nodded in agreement, before pulling his phone from his pocket with his other hand. Dialing in his office number, relief hit him like a wave when Catherine answered.

"Steve, where are you?" She'd started, but he cut her off.

"Cath, listen to me, I think we're closing in on Danny. I need you to pull up my location, tell me what's nearby." He'd ordered, and she hadn't tried to argue.

"Okay." She'd said after a few seconds silence. "I'm pulling your cell's GPS now." And then after another brief pause, "Okay we've got a university three miles west of your location, and a small motel two miles to the east. The motel closed down a year ago, but was recently reopened by new owners."

"Okay, I want you to call for a medic, have them on standby." Steve ordered before hanging up on her. "Motel, 2 miles this way." He directed to Chin, before both men picked up their pace, and ran flat out as fast as they could in the direction of the motel.

After what seemed like a lifetime, they found the motel Catherine had told them about. They slowed to a hurried walk, Chin panting forcefully against the exhaustion setting in.

"Blood." Steve pointed several smudges to him, staining the concrete path. "Let's go." They'd hurried to the front desk, both men slapping their badges and a picture of Danny down in front of the middle aged woman.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" She asked, before picking up the photo.

"Have you seen this man?" The hope and desperation evident in Steve's voice and Chin's eyes.

"No, I'm sorry." She shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. But Anastasia was working this weekend, said we'd had a newcomer who looked pretty beat. She'd given him a room so he could rest up. Paid in cash, no questions asked."

"Was it him?" Steve pointed to the photo. "Is he okay?"

"I'm sorry I just don't know. I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

"What room is he in?" Steve demanded.

"I can't just..."

"Look, we need that room number. He's a cop and he's missing."

"Room 11." She'd pointed back towards the row's of red doors almost immediately.

"Thanks." Chin smiled, and chased after Steve who'd started for the room. "Hey, Steve, slow down." Chin said, catching up to him. "We need to be careful on this. We don't know what to expect when he answers the door."

"Call Catherine." Steve replied, pulling the gun from his holster. "She needs to send an ambulance."

They advanced towards the room, ignoring the trail of brown smudges they both knew to be blood, and stopped short of the window. Steve raised a hand to silence Chin on the phone, before peeking around the frame and trying to see through the blinds.

"It's him." He breathed a sigh of relief, recognizing the profile perched on the end of one of the beds. And then, before he could really relish in the joy of successfully tracking down his missing best friend, his breathing stopped, and he could hear his heart beat in his ears as he tried to make out what Danny was fiddling with in his hands. A gun.

"Shit!" He exclaimed, before hurrying to stand in front of the door, raising one knee to his chest, and kicking with as much strength as he could muster, landing his foot an inch away from the door handle.

**BANG, **the door flew open and Danny fell back onto the bed.

.

The second the door flew open, breaking off of one of the hinges, Steve was aware of three things. The first was the overwhelming stench of vomit, alcohol and something metallic. The second was the colour red; on the floor, on the bed, in the bathroom, and covering the oh so still body. The third was that Danny, broken and bloody, wasn't moving. It took less then a second for Steve to process the information, and then he was hurrying over to the Detective, reaching his side in 4 long strides.

"Danny?" He called out, grabbing his face in his hands. "Danny, c'mon buddy, wake up." He tried to coax him to consciousness as Chin spoke calmly into the cell he held to his ear. Danny's face was cold, his lips were taking on a bluish tint, his skin was a deathly shade of white. _And there was red, so much red._ "Danny?" He resumed, his fingers searching for a pulse in his neck. "Wake up." He begged, as he pressed harder on the jugular. He held his breath as he searched, through the tips of his fingers, for the proof he wasn't too late. Let out a really long sigh when he felt a very faint, barely there, thump, thump-thump, thump, and then another as he felt a slow, wisp of air against his cheek as he checked for breathing. Steve moved quickly, scanned his friends body, eyes landing on the gun in one hand, and then the pills next to him, resting against his thigh. He snatched up the gun, put the safety back on, tossed it onto the spare bed and then grabbed for the orange pot. He swallowed hard against the bile when he registered that at least half of them were gone. _Red...why was everything red? _He lifted Danny's hand, gasped to feel it was ice cold.

"Chin, pass me that quilt." He pointed to the one on the spare bed. "He's freezing." Then turned back to Danny. "Danno, can you hear me? C'mon, wake up." But, no matter how hard he tried to coax him back, Danny didn't even stir.

The ambulance arrived after a couple of minutes, and too afraid to let him go, Chin had to pull Steve off of his friend.

"Come on Steve, step back." He said, as medics rushed in. He'd watched one of them insert a catheter into the back of the hand and push fluids whilst the other did a quick pat down of Danny's body.

"We have a deep laceration, with possible debris, to the right wrist, superficial lesions to the left knee and arm. Pupils are pinpoint and non-reactive, and he's borderline hypothermic."

"Hypothermic? This is Hawaii!" Steve had interrupted.

"Sir, can you please calm down." The medic pushing fluids spoke. "He's presenting with typical alcohol poisoning. Do you know how much he's had to drink?"

"No, not exactly. At least 2 bottles of whiskey, maybe more. And he's on morphine." Steve didn't appreciate nor like the sudden look of worry that flicked across the paramedics face, before turning to his partner.

"We need to get him to the hospital now." The other medic nodded, grabbed for the stretcher. Less than two minutes later, Danny had been loaded, still unconscious, into the ambulance.

"You go with him." Chin said to Steve, a reassuring pat to the back. "I'll get Catherine to pick me up, then I'll get the truck and we'll meet you at the hospital." Steve nodded in response, climbed aboard, took the seat opposite the stretcher, and held onto Danny's had tightly. Only let go when Danny started to convulse, and then he turned to shouting at the driver to 'hurry the hell up!'

Steve paced the floor of the waiting room, Danny's blood covering his hands and smudged onto his blue shirt; red. The nurse had often suggested he go and wash up, but he refused every time, not wanting to rick missing the doctor's updates. He kept his eye on the door of the room that held Danny, four nurses and two doctors, waiting for it to open. Chin and Catherine had arrived an hour after he'd escorted Danny from the ambulance and straight into the ER, but even they could offer little comfort. Haunting him like a bad dream, flashbacks of the motel room and Danny convulsing on the way to hospital didn't let Steve forget that even he wasn't a superhero with super powers. For the third time in as many minutes, he checked his watch, then looked at the other two Five-0 members waiting with him. Chin had taken to a bench of seats to stretch out on, and even though his eyes were closed, Steve suspected that he wasn't sleeping.

"You need to sit and rest." Catherine said, pulling Steve from his thoughts, whilst sliding her arms up around his neck.

"I'm fine." Steve had smiled down at her, taking solace in her presence. "Thank you for being here." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into an embrace.

"You're welcome." She whispered into his neck, and only pulled away when a doctor stepped into the room.

"Are you the family of Detective Williams?" The female doctor asked, and almost immediately, Steve had said yes and Chin had bolted upright to face her. "Please, take a seat." She indicated, and Catherine and Steve joined Chin as the doctor took one opposite the three concerned friends.

"How is he? Is he going to be okay?" Steve asked, and when Catherine took his hand in both of hers, he gave them a nervous squeeze.

"We're moving Detective Williams to the Intensive Care Unit, where he will have to stay for the foreseeable future. His blood alcohol levels are dangerously high, and his blood test revealed an overdose of morphine. We've had to put a tube down his throat to help him breathe, and we're using a catheter in each hand to administer fluids to restore hydration and blood sugar levels, and a drug called Naloxone to help reverse the damage done by the overdose. We've also had to pump his stomach in order to try and remove any more alcohol sitting in his system, but any that has passed into the digestive tract is beyond our control, so we've sedated him to prevent him waking up whilst there's still a possibility of it affecting him." The doctor explained.

"So he'll be okay?" Steve asked for clarification.

"He's in a critical condition. A lot rests on how well he reacts to treatment, how much damage he's done to his liver. I'm afraid right now it's a waiting game. But I have to warn you, alcohol poisoning alone is a very serious illness, so that paired along with the overdose means it's extremely lucky Detective Williams is still alive."

"Can we go and see him?" Steve choked out.

"We can only allow one visitor at a time."

All three looked at each other, the decision made silently between them.

"Steve, you go." Catherine smiled softly, squeezing his hand again. "I can go and see Rachel and let her know that Danny wont be having Grace for a while."

"And I can go home and sleep." Chin chuckled lightly. "As long as you promise to call and update me."

"Of course." Steve nodded, before standing up and facing the doctor. "Let's go."

The doctor bid goodbye to the other two adults, before leading Steve to Danny's room.

Steve had landed up in the hospital more times than he could count on one hand, but never had he been so afraid. Danny had never looked so weak, so lifeless, and the machine forcing him to breathe was a constant reminder that he had allowed this to happen to his partner. With every whoosh, every rise and fall of the chest, Steve sent a silent prayer, begging whoever the Hell was upstairs to give Danny the strength to push through this.

He'd lost a lot of blood from the deep gash in his wrist, but after a few stitches they'd stopped the bleeding. He'd needed it bandaged, along with the scrape on his bicep, and both of his feet.

"What's going on in that noggin of yours?" He'd whispered several times, never getting an answer.

It took four days before they could take the ventilator away, another three before Danny woke. Steve had been there the second his eyes began to flutter.

"Danny?" He's coaxed. "Open your eyes, buddy. Let's see those baby blues." Danny's eyes had opened slowly, but they'd focused on Steve pretty quickly.

"Steve?" He's asked, then looked around him. "What...how...shouldn't be here."

"Hey, it's okay, Danno. You just had a bit too much to drink, you're going to be fine." Steve had meant to reassure, but there was no mistaking the fiery anger in Danny's eyes.

"No! Don't want to be fine! No! No! No!" He'd shouted, the heart monitor that had been put on silent suddenly came to life as his heart rate picked up quickly.

"Danny?" Steve was shocked, secretly hoping that he would wake and be perfectly okay again.

"This is your fault!" Danny continued to shout, the venom in his voice puncturing holes in Steve's chest. "Don't want to be here. No! No!" He pulled at the nasal cannula under his nose, and then proceeded to rip the IV lines from his hands.

"Woah, Danny, calm down!" Steve had almost begged, rushed forward to pin him by his shoulders as he tried to get up and out of bed.

"I hate you!" Danny shouted in his face. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

With that, the doctors had rushed in with a sedative and pushed Steve out of the room. He waited outside, listening to Danny's crazed shouting, until it faltered and slowly died down into nothingness.

When the doctors emerged, both looking a little frazzled, Steve pulled one to the side.

"What the hell was that?" He demanded to know. The doctor looked at Steve, a sympathetic look on his face.

"We suspect that Detective Williams is suffering from drug induced depression. Please, don't take anything he says to heart. We're trying to counteract the effects of the alcohol and morphine, but it can take some time. He just needs a friend right now."

"Thanks." Steve said, deflated. But, ignoring his wounded ego, he stepped back into the hospital room, sat back down at Danny's bedside, and took his hand back into his.

It had been another two days before the doctors had allowed the sedation to be eased off. They'd warned McGarrett that it still might not have been enough time, that Danny still might not be himself, but Steve had decided it was worth it.

"Danny?" Steve asked tenderly when his eyes had fluttered open. A minute passed in silence, before Danny looked at him. "How are you feeling?"

"You know what? You are insubordinate!" He hissed, his face twisting into anger.

"Insubordinate?" Steve repeated, taken aback, hoping it's the start of one of Danny's typical rants.

"Yes. A completely out of control, barbaric beast, with little to no conscience!" Danny fumed, his eyes narrowed. Not typical, Steve decided.

"Danny, please, I don't understand..."

"I mean, who actually carries tear gas around with them, anyway?" And then Steve clicked, realised that Danny was stuck back on the day Steve had saved his life.

"You had a gun pointed at your face." Steve explained, his voice low in an effort to pacify the patient.

"And you think I couldn't handle it?!" The heart monitor started to sound the alarm, and Steve didn't miss the irate cop's hands balling into fists so tight, the knuckles turned white.

"I wasn't willing to risk it." Steve said matter of factly.

"You weren't willing to risk _trusting_ me?!" Danny howled, and a crowd of doctors and nurses rushed into the private room.

"It wasn't about trust." Steve shook his head, stepped back as the doctor pulled a syringe out, no doubt full of sedative.

"It's always about trust, Steven!" Danny had retorted, before the nurse in charge ushered Steve from the room.

Another three days passed, and Steve was starting to worry that the doctors had gotten it wrong; that no matter how long they left it, how long the drug took to come out of his system, Danny would never be_ Danno_ again. He'd asked for a second opinion, and then a third, but they'd all insisted the same; it was a drug induced depression, and as the drug and alcohol slowly filtered out, he'd start to return to normal. The following day, Danny woke from his slumber, and it took a long time for him to take his eyes from the ceiling to meet Steve's tired ones. Several emotions flitted across his face, and then, silently, he rolled over so his back was facing McGarrett and curled into a foetal position. Loud, heartbreaking sobs filled the room, rocking Danny's body with the force of each wail and without saying a word, Steve climbed onto the bed behind him and held his best friend until the bawling turned to weeping, and the weeping turned to silent tears.

"I've got you, Danno." Whispered into his hair.

On the eighteenth day, Steve had been sleeping when Danny had woke. He wasn't sure how long he'd been watching him, but when he finally stirred from his sleep, his eyes fixed on those familiar grey ones.

"Hey Danno, how you feeling?" He asked, his voice hoarse.

"Like I don't want to kill you any more." Danny half smiled. "But, it's not all rainbows." His smile fell, eyes looked away. Steve pulled himself up from the chair and resumed his position next to Danny's bed.

"The doctor said you'd start to feel a bit better now. You went bat shit crazy there for a few days." Steve lightly joked.

"I remember...the voice...in my head..." Danny pushed through the haze, but the memories mostly stayed lost.

"Yeah, it was something to do with the morphine and the whiskey. You've done a bit of damage to your liver, but they hope it will repair itself."

"So I'm not crazy?" Danny's voice filled with hope, and Steve's heart broke a little at the innocence behind the question.

"All nine kinds." Steve nodded. "But you're going to be okay." Danny stifled a yawn.

"How long have I been...out?"

"It's been over two weeks since you came to mine for beers, Danno."

"Grace?"

"Knows her Daddy's been sick, but is on the mend. I'll bring her to see you tomorrow."

"I'm so tired." This time, giving in to the yawn.

"Get some sleep. I'll still be here when you wake. I promise." Steve reached for one of the hands that had been still for far too long, and gave a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah...sleep..." Danny nodded, his eyes already closed. "You should too...look rough." Steve settled back into his chair, ready to close his too. "And Steve?"

"Yeah, Danno?"

"I got you too, babe." Danny smiled, and Steve let out a long awaited sigh of relief; Danny was back.

* * *

**Pau. :)**


End file.
